


The Five Stages of Grief

by disaster_by_chance



Series: Capitalist Kings [5]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Not A Fix-It, Post-Canon, Sam | Awesamdude-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29806278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_by_chance/pseuds/disaster_by_chance
Summary: Sam experiences the five stages of grief after Tommy's murder.
Series: Capitalist Kings [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166960
Comments: 9
Kudos: 71





	The Five Stages of Grief

**Denial.**

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Those words wouldn’t stop repeating themselves in Sam’s mind. The quiet, hissing voice that had taken many forms, his own self, Dream, the Egg, repeated those words over and over again in his head. 

They were taunting him, mocking him, laughing at him with the phrase as he frantically explored every part of the prison. Walking down the halls, going in the rooms, tearing down the walls and breaking pistons and redstone contratptions, the phrase followed him like the echoing of his footsteps. 

He tore apart obsidian and blackstone walls desperately looking for what went wrong. Where those explosions came from, what had happened that caused Tommy to be locked in there with Dream, locked in with that  _ monster _ . 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam shut his eyes, muttering rambles, wishing the phrase to leave his head as he swung the pickax at the prison walls, searching, looking, trying to find an excuse for what just happened. 

There had been a reason Tommy was trapped in there with Dream, the explosions, the prison break, the malfunction. That was the reason why Tommy was- 

“No,” Sam muttered, shaking his head as the sound of stone breaking echoed across the walls, his face illuminated with the red glow from the redstone behind the walls. 

“No,” he repeated, “no, no, he’s not dead. Tommy’s-” he choked back a sob, “Tommy’s not-” 

And so it went, hundreds of times. Thousands of times. 

Sam searched high and low throughout the prison, looking for anything, just  _ anything _ , that would give him hints or clues as to what happened. Where the explosions had come from, if that’s where they were, or if it was a malfunction on the prison’s behalf. He looked hour and hour after to find it. 

And every time he failed to find something, he went back to Dream’s cell. He went back thinking that everything was just a nightmare. That everything was some sick illusion the Egg was playing on him, showing him that the Egg was right in saying Sam had no power. That even though he vowed to protect the children, he still failed them. 

His skin burned, it was raw from him trying to force himself through the lava wall when it wasn’t lowering as fast as he wanted to. When he heard Tommy’s cries from the other side and couldn’t get to him, he tried to force his way through, burning his skin and face in the process, trying to get to him but it was too late. The cries for help went silent and Sam couldn’t push any further into the lava, even with fire resistance. 

And though his skin burned, his flesh glistening reds and pink, his mask dripping from the previous heat, he kept pushing on. Kept looking for the source of the problem, kept searching for clued to a question he needed to be answered. Every time he went around the prison completely he always came back to the cell. 

He went back thinking he wouldn’t see Tommy’s bloody and beaten corpse, half soaked by the water in the corner of the cell. He went back thinking he wouldn’t see the bloodstains on the walls, the crimson red mixing with the tears of purple dripping off the obsidian walls. He went back thinking he wouldn’t see Dream with bloody knuckles, standing in the corner, staring down Sam as to tell him, “Look what I did. Look what you couldn’t prevent.” 

Round after round, Sam went back to the cell, went back to the damned wall of lava, hoping, wishing, that he would see Dream by himself with no sign of Tommy. He went back, hoping and wishing that if he did see Tommy, he was alive, he was breathing. He was singing songs badly at the top of his lungs or begging Sam to let him out. 

Oh, how Sam wished to return and hear Tommy pleading for Sam to get him out. For now, Sam knew to listen. 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam gripped the sides of his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he pleaded for the voice to stop lying to him. For the Egg to stop feeding him lies because Tommy was alive, because he would find the source of the problem, because he was Awesamdude. Things like this didn’t happen to him. He wouldn’t have allowed it to.

He was the Warden, he played his role correctly, there was no reason for something like this to happen if he was doing his job and doing it correctly. 

So there was no way Tommy was dead. 

Hours and hours in the prison. Walking the halls, examining every last bit, going in secret rooms, breaking down walls, destroying redstone contraptions, going over blueprints, Sam did everything in his power to find what went wrong. 

He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he refused to talk to anyone but the guards and stayed, looking for an excuse, looking for the cause, looking for Tommy. 

For every time he went back to Dream’s cell, he told himself that Tommy was still alive. 

**Anger.**

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam shouted in frustration and hurtled a trident across the room, watching as it hit the quartz decorations of the prison lobby with a loud crash before falling back down onto the floor with a clatter, landing on several other tridents that Sam had thrown previously. 

Even after hours and hours, days, nights,  _ weeks _ , of looking for what caused Tommy’s death, Sam found nothing. Absolutely nothing to show what the  _ fuck  _ happened in the prison. Why he failed, why Tommy was dead, and why Dream had the upper hand again. Nothing even came  _ close  _ to explaining what happened. 

And it frustrated Sam to no end. 

He was a logical guy, when there was a problem, he could come up with a solution. He could build a machine to fix it. If he needed materials, he built farms for them. If he needed XP, he built spawners. If Tommy needed therapy, he built Sam Nook. He was a problem-solver, but this was a box of puzzles Sam couldn’t open, couldn’t figure out, couldn’t  _ solve _ . 

And he hated himself for it. 

He hated himself for getting so caught up in playing the role of “Warden”. He hated himself for not listening to Tommy when he had begged Sam to be let out. He hated himself for not agreeing with the Egg when it told him he would never be enough when it came to protecting these children. He hated himself for not knowing what went wrong in his own prison. He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself. 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam slammed his fists on the desk, standing up with such a force that his chair was knocked over. 

The same damned phrase kept repeating itself to Sam, still taunting him of what he’d lost, and Sam, for one, hated to lose. 

He walked around the desk and went to grab one of the tridents on the floor, ignoring how it had chipped and cracked after being thrown against the quartz decorations, before heading to that damned cell where Dream, and Tommy, resided. 

In his anger, he refused to see Dream. He refused to talk to him, refused to check up on him, refused to give him things like clocks, books, and food. He could starve for all Sam cared. Because maybe then, he would finally be able to get Tommy’s corpse out of the cell. 

The only time Sam ever saw Dream though, was through the cameras. The same camera system that showed him when Dream first started to plummet Tommy with his fists. The same camera system that had warned Sam too late and therefore Sam didn’t arrive before he could prevent something so tragic. 

Gripping the trident, he decided to stop being a coward and see Dream. He didn’t know what he was going to do. If he was going to go and kill him himself, if he was going to demand answers, if he was going to torture him, he didn’t know. All that he knew was that he was furious, foremost at himself, but also at Dream. 

It wasn’t a secret that Sam never thought much of himself. He was a humble individual who was quick to share in his resources, quick to give, and to offer shelter to those who needed it. If he had as many riches as he did, it only made sense for him to give it freely if someone needed it. Plus, it fed his ego a bit, making himself believe that he was a good person for doing so, but now Sam knew how silly that was. 

Now he knew that because of his obsession, his dedication to playing a role only hurts people, he hated himself for it. He hated himself for not being smarter. For not being faster. For not being more logical about the situation. For being so fucking stupid to let something like this happen to the very child he vowed to protect. 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam punched a nearby wall, the obsidian cracking just a bit, or maybe those were his bones? There was definitely blood, pain spiking up his arm, but Sam ignored it, ignored it like he ignored the burns from the lava that were just now healing on their own. Too hyperfocused on getting to Dream’s prison. 

When he was finally facing the lava again, Sam reached out a bloodied hand to get the lava to lower. If Dream tried to escape now, oh, he was going to be in for it. Sam was so angry, he was sure not even the Prime God could help Dream escape his wrath. 

The lava finally lowered, revealing a scrawny Dream slumped against the left wall with sunken eyes, broken mask, long, unwashed hair, and dried blood on his knuckles looking right back at Sam with a face empty of any kind of emotion. 

“So,” the prisoner spoke in a slow, tired voice, “you finally decided to come.” He turned his head a bit to look at Sam. 

Steam hissed from Sam’s gas mask, the hybrid gripping his trident with trembling hands, as he narrowed his eyes at the orange-clad prisoner. 

“Heh,” Dream muttered, studying Sam’s expression and body language. “Did you come to kill me, Awesamdude?” 

“Oh, it’s definitely on the table,” Sam responded, his voice low and cold. 

Dream frowned, moving his head so he was now looking at the opposite side of the wall, “Well, it’s about time, isn’t it?” 

“What the hell is your problem, Dream?” Sam demanded, his voice now loud, “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Dream snapped, looking back at Sam, “Kill Tommy?” He got up, staggering over to the end of his cell so that he was now facing Sam, “Is that what you want to know, Sam? Why I did it?”

He let out a burst of maniacal laughter, “I’ll tell you why! Because I can! And it was  _ fun _ , Sam! God, you don’t know how many times I thought about it while I was trapped in there with him! And I just, I snapped!” He laughed, shrugging, “I just snapped and he was dead!” 

“You sick bastard, he was stuck in there with  _ you _ ! Not the other way around!” Sam shouted. 

“Either way, he’s still dead,” Dream spat, “and either way, it was still your fault.” 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam hissed, ducking his head as red filled his vision. 

He couldn’t believe he once sided with Dream. He couldn’t believe that they once used to be good friends. He couldn’t believe that he had befriended someone so sick, so evil, that they killed a child and didn’t feel any remorse for it. 

“I-” Sam raised his head before pausing. 

His eyes scanned the cell before they landed back on Dream. 

“Dream,” his voice was quiet, “where’s Tommy’s body?”

When the lava had lowered, Sam knew he’d have to see Tommy’s corpse. But the thought of it made him sick, he knew that if he saw it, he might lose control. He could explode, he could kill Dream without getting answers, so he at first made a note to ignore it. He knew it was in the corner, halfway in the water and rotting. He knew it was there, so he didn’t look there. 

But it wasn’t there anymore. 

“Dream,” Sam repeated, his voice cold and tense enough to freeze over the lava surrounding Dream’s now exposed cell, “where’s Tommy’s body?” 

“Oh,” Dream muttered, “Forgot about that.” 

A sly smile crossed his face before he gave a shrug, “Even though I hated how utterly annoying Tommy was when he was alive, he was absolutely repulsive as a rotting corpse.” 

“What did you do?” Sam demanded. 

“Gave him a burial,” Dream simply said, his eyes slowly gazing down into the lava, “he’s no more now.” 

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Sam shouted, his voice rattling the cell walls as tears pricked his vision. This had to be another trick, even if Sam was well out of the stage of denial, this had to be some sick prank Dream was playing on him. 

“I just did what Tommy would’ve wanted,” Dream grinned, “You know how much he loved lava.” 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam snapped. 

He twirled his trident before stabbing it into the ground, his arms reaching back to grab the bow around his shoulder and an arrow from his side. He drew back and let the arrow fire, hitting Dream square in the shoulder, his scream echoing off the walls while Sam stepped back, lowering the bow slowly as he watched the lava rise up again, covering Dream once again. 

With shaking hands, Sam dropped the bow and dropped to his knees, his head in his hands as he cried out in anger, frustration, and loss. 

The crackling of the lava, the popping noise of the heat combined with the unstable hiss from Sam before there was a loud  _ boom _ ! And a crater in front of the lava entrance with a smoking Sam in the middle. 

That wasn’t the last time Sam lost it and exploded, and he didn’t feel like trying to prevent it from happening anymore. 

**Bargaining.**

It took some time for Sam to calm down after hearing the news that he now didn’t even have a body to bury since Dream had thrown it into the lava god knows when. 

Though he still exploded here and there in anger and frustration, he knew he was out of the state of anger because now his thoughts were giving him ideas he didn’t like. 

Ideas like talking to Dream about the book he had mentioned down in his vault. The famed book that could somehow bring people back from the dead. Ideas that said maybe he could ask Dream to bring Tommy back somehow. That Sam would grant him freedom is he did so. 

But every time Sam had an idea like that, he had to stop himself, to remind him that there was a reason Dream was locked up in that prison. That if Sam did something stupid again, people were going to get hurt. More people were going to die. It wouldn’t be just Tommy. 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam sighed shakily, his head in his hands as he sat at his desk. The monitor that had shown the inside of Dream’s cell had been punched in, the screen cracked and no longer smoking, pieces of the monitor littered around Sam’s desk. 

He had to come up with something. He had to somehow figure out a way to get Dream to bring Tommy back without trading one life for several others. 

That’s when he got the idea. 

Scrambling up, Sam grabbed his bow and some arrows, slinging the items across his back as he rushed over to Dream’s cell. The first time he had been there since he shot Dream with his arrow during a rage of anger. 

He didn’t even know if Dream was still alive after that injury, but since the only image that he ever did see was the one about Tommy, he assumed that the monster was still alive. Still locked up in that cage. 

Sam didn’t watch the lava go down again. 

Instead, he looked away, waiting for the sound to tell him that it was fully lowered, too afraid that if he looked into the lava he would see the bright, blue eyes of Tommy contrasting with the reds and oranges of the heat. The burning sensation of lava on his skin was a painful enough memory. 

Once the lava was lowered, Sam raised his head, stepping up to the closet point, his eyes scanning over the cell till he found Dream where he had found him before. Slumped on the side of the wall, starving, dirty, and bloodied. 

The arrow was out of his shoulder, Sam could see that, but he couldn’t tell if the wound had healed over or not. All he could make out was a dark red stain that ate away at Dream’s jumpsuit like a virus, reminding Sam all too much of the blood vines plaguing the server and his own mind. 

“Back again, aren’t you?” Dream’s voice was dry and loud enough that Sam could barely hear him. “Here to finally kill me?”   
  
“No,” Sam assured, shaking his head, though he feared if he lost it again, he might just aim a little higher than the shoulder and get Dream in the head. They called him Katniss Everdeen for a reason. 

Dream raised an eyebrow, slowly turning his head to look at Sam, his eyes were bloodshot and more sunken in than before.    
  
“Then why are you here?”   


Sam drew a breath, “I want to make a deal.” 

Saying it, saying it aloud, made it final. He spoke his idea into reality and Sam knew that he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t turn around and take the coward’s way out. Blinded by his grief, Sam truly thought that this was a good idea. That this was the way to go. 

“A deal?” Dream questioned. 

“I want you to bring Tommy back.” 

At this, Dream scoffed, before he chuckled slowly, looking down at his feet with an amused sigh. “Oh Sam, Sam, Sam, Samuel…” he muttered, shaking his head slowly to every mention of Sam’s name. “I was wondering when you would reach this stage.” 

Sam gripped his bow a little tighter, but he didn’t raise it. 

“If you can bring people back from the dead like you claim, then bring Tommy back,” Sam commanded, his voice full of authority and demand. It was the Warden talking now. 

Dream blinked slowly before looking up from the cell floor and over to Sam. “You believe I have the power to bring people back?”

Sam didn’t know if he did, or if he was just desperate to have Tommy back. He knew Dream to be a liar, a cheat, a manipulative coward who said what he could to get his way. So he didn’t know if Dream was telling the truth or not. He didn’t know if bringing Tommy back was an option. But if it was, he was going to make sure to take it. 

“I...I don’t know,” he admitted, “But if it’s true if what you claim is true, I want you to bring Tommy back.” 

“You know Tommy didn’t believe me,” Dream muttered, ignoring Sam’s command, “Tommy didn’t think I could bring people back. Didn’t believe Schlatt gave me the book that gives me the power to do so.” he shook his head and chuckled darkly, “Well, I hope Tommy now knows, I’m sure he’s asked Schlatt by now, don’t you think?” He looked over at Sam and grinned. 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

If Sam had still been in a raging state of anger, he would’ve knocked an arrow and sent it flying right into Dream’s grinning teeth, but he didn’t. Instead, he clenched his jaw, smoke hissing out of his mask as he narrowed his eyes at Dream. 

“Bring. Tommy. Back.” 

Dream narrowed his eyes, “What’s in it for me?” 

Sam knew this question was coming, he knew what Dream wanted, what Dream expected, but Sam just couldn’t give him that. He couldn’t be so careless with his bargain, even if it guaranteed Tommy’s return. 

“I won’t grant you freedom,” Sam assured, “but I will exchange his life for mine.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. 

“A canon life for a canon life,” He held out his hand, a hologram of three green hearts appearing over the upturned palm with the first one glitching slowly. 

Blinking at the hologram, a sly smirk formed on Dream’s face as he shook his head, slowly standing up with a hand to his injured shoulder. 

“I get nothing in return for it though,” he snapped, “what’s in it for me?” 

“You get a life back.” 

Dream stopped, looking back at Sam in confusion. 

“I’ll trade a canon life for Tommy’s and grant you another canon life with one of my own,” Sam explained, two hearts now glitching, “I’ll be down to one heart and you’ll have two lives again.” 

Now this, this seemed to entice Dream. The man pondered for a second, looking back and forth between the holographic hearts and Sam’s face, wondering if this was an opportunity he should take. 

With him having one more heart than Sam, and Tommy if he revived him, then that could mean a lot of things. Mainly it meant it was easier to keep Sam and Tommy dead when his favor was called in, but Dream was having too much fun. 

Seeing the hurt and pain on Sam’s face, hearing the guilt and desperation in Sam’s voice? 

Oh, it was too much fun, too much fun, for Dream.    
  
It was like he found another Tommy, except this time around, he was more powerful and richer than the child Dream originally toyed with. 

Chuckling darkly, Dream shook his head, “I don’t think I can do that.” 

Sam closed his fist, the hologram disappearing, as he frowned and narrowed his eyes at Dream. “What did you say?”

“I’m not going to do it!” Dream repeated, making sure to enunciate so that Sam knew. “I’m not going to bring Tommy back!” He laughed, “Not even if you promised me freedom, or traded all your lives, nothing could convince me to bring the fucker back! Nothing!” 

Dream shook his head, wiping a tear before looking back at Sam, “Tommy’s dead, Sam. He’s going to stay dead like the rest of them. The sooner you accept it, the better.” 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

And with that, Dream turned his back to Sam, done with the conversation. 

**Depression.**

Ever since Sam had found out that Tommy had died, he hadn’t left the prison grounds once. 

The furthest out he’d gone was outside the entrance to give the news to Tubbo and Ranboo when they came to ask, but since then he didn’t leave the prison walls, too broken to go anywhere else. 

Some might say that the role of the Warden had fully consumed him and he felt the need to stay at the prison at all times. That he was trapped in the mindset and therefore a prisoner to his own creation, to his own Pandora’s Box. 

Others saw it as it was, the stage of depression. The kind that shut everyone out, pushed everyone away. The one that focused on the terrible, the negative, the bitter reality of loss and didn’t let anyone come close. 

Those who tired though, because there were some who did, weren’t successful in getting Sam out of his mental state. No words, no convincing, nothing, not even Fran could get him away from the prison, away from Dream, away from the knowledge that the death of Tommy was completely his own fault. 

And like his mind, the prison was deteriorating. From the frantic panic that Sam first had in search for what went wrong, taking down walls, destroying redstone contraptions, breaking blocks, to his fits of rage with craters littering the prison-like the dark side of the moon, even the crimson blood vines had slowly made their way around the prison’s outside walls, giving the impression that Pandora’s Box was bleeding deep red tears. 

Once Sam’s prized possession, the pinnacle of his abilities, once something he had taken pride in had become his very downfall. And the prison he built for others in order to keep the server safe became his new home. Sam was too, a prisoner like Dream. 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Sam didn’t have any more tears left, after all the time he had spent mourning over the loss of Tommy. Mourning over the fact that he had failed Tommy, that he would never see him again, that Tommy was dead and there was nothing he could do about it but think about how he could’ve done something but was far too late. 

When Dream said he wouldn’t bring Tommy back, it devastated him. 

But instead of feeling angry like he thought he would, instead of exploding right then and there in rage, Sam felt...nothing. 

As if he expected that answer, he felt nothing. No anger, no shame, no disappointment, nothing. 

He became a hollow shell of amour who went back to his desk to cry over what was never meant to be. 

He cried and he cried, shaking and shivering, hating himself for doing so, but he reached that stage where all he could do was cry in frustration at how unfair this all was, cry in mourning for the son he had lost, cry in heartbreaking grief at what could’ve been had Sam dropped his act.

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

Those words would forever haunt him, Sam assumed, haunt him like Tommy now did in Sam’s mind and in the walls of the prison. Every where Sam looked, he saw Tommy. 

He saw Tommy’s blue eyes in the gleam of his tridents, he saw Tommy’s corpse in the broken computer monitor, he saw Tommy’s bright yellow hair in the glow of the lanterns, he saw Tommy’s blood on the walls of obsidian, he saw Tommy’s child-like wonder in the little trinket’s Sam made to distract himself and pass time. 

And he heard Tommy too.

He heard Tommy screaming, crying for help, begging Sam to come and save him. 

The first time he heard Tommy, he dropped everything and ran towards the cell, thinking it was real, thinking that he could reach him in time now, thinking that there was a chance that Tommy was still alive. 

Of course, that wasn’t the case. It was just Sam’s mind playing cruel tricks, but the second, third, fourth, and fifth time it happened, he ran after the echoing cries with the wish that Tommy was still alive. 

Every time after that though, he gave up, gave up on wishing that it meant Tommy was still alive, gave up trying desperately to get to him, and every time after the fact, he would simply cover his ears and squeeze his eyes shut, trying to block out all the noise. 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Dream] _

**Acceptance.**

The noise didn’t bother Sam anymore. 

He let the haunting cries of Tommy ring out across the prison walls, he let the senseless whispering of the Egg spread across the prison with its vines, consuming his thoughts and morals, he let his own thoughts run rampant, constantly reminding him of his failures. 

At least the noise beat the silence of the prison, it kept Sam occupied, kept him focused, albeit it did nothing to help him. 

His burns had healed, for the most part. They took a long time to scar over, since they were never treated properly at all by Sam, serving as a constant reminder of what Sam lost and of how he failed.

He hadn’t seen Dream for a while, hadn’t seen him since the last time he rushed to the cell, thinking Tommy was crying out for help only to find Dream laughing at Sam’s wishes. For all Sam knew, Dream could’ve starved to death, could’ve died from his arrow wound, could’ve escaped. At this point, Sam didn’t think he cared all that much if that was the case. He would accept that it was his fault and move on if that’s what had happened. 

Besides, he had other things to worry about, other things to focus on. Even though he didn’t leave the prison, he still drowned himself in his work, designing new builds, fixing up what he had broken in the prison, coming up with new ideas to improve the Pandora’s Box. Sam became a machine. 

He became a cold, lifeless machine, void of feeling, only programmed to work and build and plan until his hands bled, reminding him that he still wasn’t made of gears, circuits, and metal. 

But he worked, and he worked, he left out plans for Quackity for L’Vegas, new ideas, new upgrades, he gave Puffy instructions on how to conduct maintenance on Sam Nook, Sam not planning on interacting with the robot any time soon, he even gave the Eggpire ideas on builds to further spread their blood vines. But he never left the prison. 

As he worked, he accepted things he thought he never would. 

First and foremost, whatever anyone tried to say to him, Sam knew that Tommy’s death was his out careless, heartless fault. There was no one else to blame for Tommy’s death but Sam.

Bad and Ant were wrong about it being Tommy’s fault. Them saying that Tommy was the blame because he knew what he was getting into when he signed the waivers was bullshit and didn’t mean a thing to Sam. What value did a signature and flimsy sheets of paper hold over a life? What sick and twisted mind would take the word of a pen over the desperate pleads of a traumatized child, crying out for help? Sam would because that’s what Sam did. 

Puffy trying to put the blame on herself, saying that it wasn’t Sam at fault, but her own carelessness that resulted in Tommy’s death didn’t help Sam either. He knew that Puffy cared about Tommy’s well-being and once upon a time, he too vocalized the fact right next to her, but clearly Sam didn’t care enough to put his words to action. Unlike Puffy, Sam could’ve done something about it, but he didn’t. 

Even his own son who had come multiple times to bring life back to his father couldn’t take the blame away from Sam. No matter how hard Quackity tried to convince Sam that it wasn’t his fault, that it was Dream who ultimately killed him, Dream who had beaten him to death with his own fists, Dream who had sat in there with Tommy’s corpse for who knows how long, Sam just didn’t listen. He didn’t believe Quackity’s words. He called him naive, he shouted at him, yelled at his son that he was stupid to believe that it was Dream’s fault that Tommy was dead, that he was blind if he couldn’t see that Sam was the one at fault. Quackity fired back, telling Sam that he was ridiculous, that he was the one who was stupid to believe that it was all his fault, that he was going to move on and leave Sam to wallow in his grief and self-pity. 

Quackity didn’t return after that. 

Sam was alone again, alone with his acceptance.

He accepted that he was at fault for not figuring out what went wrong with the explosions, what had caused the lockdown, sooner. 

He accepted that he knew what Dream was to Tommy, but all the same, he left him in the same cell as Dream. 

He accepted that Tommy had tried to tell Sam, tried to get out, but Sam kept him trapped with his tormentor in some twisted sense of logic.

He accepted that he had heard Tommy’s cries for help when it happened and he had been too slow to stop it. 

He accepted that there was no body, no means of having a funeral, or way to give the boy a proper funeral like Tommy deserved. 

He accepted that he had tried to find excuses to put the blame on something else. He blamed his Warden persona. He blamed the slow lava wall. He blamed the guards’ inability to find what went wrong. He blamed Dream. He blamed Tommy’s reckless behavior. He tried to blame anything and everything else that wasn’t him because he couldn’t handle being wrong. He couldn’t handle being at fault. He couldn’t handle being the reason behind the brutal death of the child he swore to protect. 

But it was his fault.

Tommy was dead and he wasn’t coming back, Sam knew that and accepted it. 

Tommy’s death was his fault. 

_ [Tommyinnit was Slain by Awesamdude] _

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, like many of you I can only think of angst, so I wrote this. Of course, it's Sam's character and not him himself, but this is just how I thought his character would go through the five stages of grief. Meanwhile, I am here in the stage of denial :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the read!


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